


Skipping A Step (And A Beat)

by V_Chan



Series: Of Princes and Commoners [4]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Angry Yuri Plisetsky, Angst and Humor, Attempt at Humor, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Not Beta Read, Prince Yuri Plisetsky, Royalty, Royalty AU, Yuri Plisetsky Swears, Yuri Plisetsky is a Brat, a bit - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-08 18:00:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14699409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/V_Chan/pseuds/V_Chan
Summary: YOI Royalty Week Day 6: Mentors, Advisors and ServantsPrince Yuri trips down the grand staircase and hurts himself.





	Skipping A Step (And A Beat)

**Author's Note:**

> The word count is steadily increasing with each new fic...  
> I KNOW Day 6 isn't what comes directly after Day 3, but it was already half-written. SO that's why Days 4 and 5 will have to wait!  
> Rated Teen because Yuri cusses maybe once or twice.

Yuri had _every fucking right_ to be angry.

His day had started off _horrible_. He woke up earlier than he usually did, _starving_. And there was _no one_ in sight, no breakfast waiting beside his bed. So he'd gotten up to raid the palace’s kitchens.

And then he had tripped down the grand staircase.

 

* * *

 

The tsarevich was nothing like Otabek had expected.

He was thin for someone so privileged.

His eyes were emerald green, a colour Otabek hadn't thought possible.

His golden hair was so long, his chin so pointy he looked like an elven prince.

Also, he wouldn't stop bleeding.

 

* * *

 

 _Fine_. Maybe Yuri just wasn't that much of a morning person.

 

* * *

 

Patching up _His Royal Highness_ was more than Otabek could handle.

The boy had slipped just as Otabek was passing in the hall. He fell, a sharp edge of the banister hitting his arm a bit beneath his shoulder- no, digging into it, cutting through it.

Before Otabek could blink in surprise, the crown prince had landed on the floor next to him, grimacing in pain.

The platter Otabek was holding fell from his hands.

He closed the distance between the prince and himself in a few rushed steps. “Are you alright?” he asked, dropping to his knees next to him. The boy was already holding his foot in one hand, letting out regular huffs at the pain. He nodded in acknowledgement. of Otabek's answer.

Quickly, Otabek examined his state. There was blood slowly dripping for the prince’s arm where he had collided with the banister, and his right foot was quickly turning blue. Other than that, he seemed fine. He'd only fallen down the stairs, so the worst Otabek could expect was a broken bone. Since there was no swelling to be seen, it was probably not the case.

Otabek tried to calm himself down. This wasn't a time to panic. He willed his breathing to even out. “Can I touch you?” he asked. “I want to help.”

The prince only nodded again. Unresponsive. _Great_.

Otabek ripped a band from his shirt and used it to press into the wound, a fine line that wouldn't stop bleeding.

The blood quickly coated his fingers. Curiously, it wouldn't stop flowing, even with Otabek’s hands painfully pressing on the wound.

He used one of his hands to rip another band off his shirt, and wrapped that one around the first to bandage the still bloody arm. He just hoped it would work.

Next, he had to take care of those bruises. There was nothing he could use to there in the empty hall, and he couldn't just leave the prince alone.

He stood up, extending a hand for the blond boy to take. “Can you walk?”

The prince stood up slowly, ignoring the hand. His face- or at least, what Otabek could see of it behind his curtain of hair- was all red with embarrassment.

Just as Otabek was starting to think he could just leave to let the prince gather what was left of his dignity in private, the boy's knees buckled under him. His hand found Otabek’s by itself, and he gripped it hard, putting all his weight there. “No,” he said, wincing.

It wasn't an answer to Otabek's question. It was "no" as in _don't you dare leave!_

And for a brief second, Otabek thought he would get yelled at. For trying to help. For not knowing how to. The prince was known for his short temper.

Instead, he took a careful step towards him. “Carry me to my room, please? My foot hurts like hell.”

 

* * *

 

Yuri was old enough to handle himself.

Or at least, he should be. He was 21 year old. Whining like that should be beneath him.

And yet, he yelped in pain as the servant— he should ask for his name, this was getting _ridiculous—_ pressed a cold rag to the bruise blossoming on the side of his foot. The servant didn't pry his hands away, however, and the coolness of the cloth didn't do much good with just how hard his palms were pressed against his foot.

“Let go,” Yuri demanded through his clenched teeth.

The pressure on the sensitive skin of his foot didn't even ease.

Yuri gripped the servant’s wrist and pulled his hand off. “That was an order, you idiot!”

The servant opened his mouth- to say something stupid probably- but Yuri had already rolled over to the other side of the bed, ignoring him.

He could hear the servant stand up, but he didn’t leave.

Yuri sighed.

“What’s your name?”

“Otabek.”

Yuri turned his head to face him, decided. The words fell out his lips before he could change his mind, “Thank you for helping me, Otabek.”

It was weird how his name rolled on Yuri’s tongue, sweet and soft.

   
_Otabek_.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this!  
> And if you did, you may consider leaving a comment on your way out... I'm not good at answering, but comments are always cherished!


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